


I'm not letting you go

by BookwormBecca99



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clarktavia friendship bc I miss them, Echo mention, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, I know bellarke talking is a miracle, Like A Lot Of Hugging, Love Confession, Past Becho mention, Smut, aka we were robbed, crying truly a lot of crying, lexa mention, oh my god there were TWO tents, probably a hugging kink tbh, return of Bellamy calling Clarke Princess, she REALLY likes his hair, so much hugging, they cockblock themselves with all their talking, they talk too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 04:41:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookwormBecca99/pseuds/BookwormBecca99
Summary: This is basically 14k words of Clarke and Bellamy hugging and talking, both with clothing and without. Plus sex. Aka that 6x11 second tent scene that was stolen from us. You’re welcome.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 11
Kudos: 68





	I'm not letting you go

**Author's Note:**

> Set somewhat in canon 6x11, with the conversation at her bedside at the beginning taken directly from the show, plus my own interpretation of Clarke's thoughts during that interaction
> 
> This is my first time writing *and* publishing smut so go easy on me pls thanks
> 
> Enjoy!

I’m not losing you again

I need you, Madi needs you

I’m not letting you go

I need you

Clarke jerks awake with a gasp, Bellamy’s words from the night before mixed with the sounds of a heart monitor swirling around and around in her head. She had dreamed of her mindspace, Josephine’s memories still lingering even though the woman is long gone, that damned door with her. 

As her eyes struggle to focus on her surroundings and she tries to calm her breathing, a familiar figure darts to her bedside and rests his hand on her thigh, murmuring softly, “Hey, you’re okay. You’re still here.” Clarke meets Bellamy’s worried gaze, resting her hand on top of his. 

“Thanks to you. How long have I been asleep?”

“A few hours.” 

Bellamy looks down, bites his lip, then meets her gaze again. 

“I’m so sorry, Clarke. I knew you were a target—” He hesitates, then continues, “I didn’t protect you.” 

Their gazes lock again, before Clarke looks away, unable to stand the intensity in his eyes. She tries to sit up, and Bellamy uses their still joined hands to gently help her to a sitting position. He doesn’t let go even when she says, meeting his gaze again, 

“Bellamy, you saved me.” 

He gives her a sad smile, just a small quirk of his mouth to the side, before looking down and pressing his lips together. His voice breaks as he says quietly, 

“So how do we save everyone I left behind?”

Clarke had been thinking about how much he would be beating himself up over the sacrifice required to get her out of Sanctum, thinking being the only thing she was capable of doing while she was piggy backing through his and Josephine’s journey to Gabriel. She had seen him do the same thing to himself countless times in the past, so of course this time would be no different, especially when he’d left his family in danger. She gives him a small smile as she says, 

“You know, if you didn’t, I’d be dead.” She pauses, glancing away and back again before continuing, “They all would: Echo, Madi. Josephine would’ve made sure of it. Your plan was good.” 

“My plan was to use Josephine’s mind drive to bargain for peace, and now—” He shakes his head, letting go of her hand. “There’s no mind on the drive.”

“We don’t need the mind drive. We’ve got me.”

Bellamy shakes his head again, “No. No way.”

“Bellamy, if we don’t give Russell his daughter back—”

“Clarke, as soon as he realizes you’re not her, which will be the second you walk in the door and he checks the drive, you’re dead.” 

She swallows, keeping her gaze trained on the collar of his shirt. 

“So let’s put it back in.” 

Gabriel’s voice comes from the other end of the tent, where he’s been fiddling with his various instruments while pretending not to listen to their conversation. They turn toward him, Clarke watching Bellamy shake his head vehemently from the corner of her eye. 

“That’s not happening. We appreciate what you did for us, but these are our people. We’ll take it from here.”

“This isn’t just about our people, Bellamy—” 

He turns to look at her again, the anger and desperation so clear in his face that she can’t meet his eyes. 

“Well, it is for me, Clarke.” 

He looks like he wants to say more, and she hasn’t heard that tone from him in quite some time, but at that moment the tent flap rustles, and Octavia comes in from outside, her brows up in a question at the raised voices. Clarke looks down at her feet, while Bellamy fidgets, moving his hands from his thighs to rest on his knees. Octavia glances between Clarke and Bellamy before cautiously saying,

“Good. Everybody’s awake.” She moves to stand next to Gabriel. “So what’s the plan?” 

Octavia glances around the room, and Gabriel shrugs before nodding toward Bellamy and Clarke. Sighing, Bellamy turns back to Clarke, and she can see his reluctance at accepting, but with just that look, she knows he will at least hear her out. 

Some hours, many discussions and scrapped plans later, the suns have travelled close to the horizon, casting a soft glow throughout the clearing. Gabriel and Bellamy set off a good thirty feet away to set up a tent for Clarke to share with Bellamy. Clarke had wanted to protest at the prospect of sharing a tent with Bellamy when she can barely stand to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds without feeling like she would either burst into tears or spontaneously combust or both, but one look at Bellamy’s face told her he would not be letting her out of his sight anytime soon. 

She can’t get his words from earlier out of her head. The last time he had spoken to her like that, with that vehemence and when she was conscious, had been in Becca’s lab when they had taken a few moments to sort of talk about that thing between them. Nothing is happening to you. He had said it with such conviction that she had almost believed him, but. Well. She had been right, and he had been wrong, and centuries have passed since that moment. Other moments, though, have been very recent. Recent enough to make her wonder. 

She had only heard his soft but strong ‘I won’t let you die’ through the fog of Josephine’s presence, and had only been able to watch his face greedily while Josephine taunted him about their fraught relationship over the years. But ‘I’m not losing you again,’ ‘I’m not letting you go,’ ‘I need you’ were somehow crystal clear and beating out a three-timed rhythm constantly in her head. Those words that had been her lifeline, her reason for living and breathing at this exact moment. 

Clarke gets broken out of her reverie by Octavia moving to sit in the chair next to hers outside the main tent entrance. Clarke gives her as much of a smile as she can manage, and Octavia returns it, looking more settled in herself than Clarke has seen in years- no, centuries. Gabriel had offhandedly mentioned Octavia’s trip into something called the anomaly while they were planning, and neither of them had explained, but Clarke would bet that it was the reason the other woman looked so at peace even on the brink of yet another war. 

“So.” Octavia says, nudging her foot against Clarke’s. Clarke raises an eyebrow. 

“So?” 

Octavia laughs softly. 

“Sharing a tent with my brother. Now there’s something I thought I’d never see.”

She laughs again. Clarke shakes her head, another small smile playing at her lips at the memory those words bring up. Clarke had never felt safer than she did at that moment in Bellamy’s arms, so relieved and happy that she hadn’t been the cause of his death after all. Her emotion must be showing on her face, because Octavia nudges her foot again but with more force this time. 

“Clarke. Please tell me that look means that this tent-sharing will be the moment you’re finally going to do something about it.” 

“Do something about what?” 

Clarke asks, genuinely confused. Octavia sighs dramatically, a little of the girl she had once been showing through. 

“I swear, you two will be the death of me. Don’t forget that I’ve known Bell my whole life, and even though you and I have had our differences, I’d like to think I know you fairly well, too. He poisoned me to save you, for god’s sake. You locked me and Kane out of the bunker after the Conclave but ensured Bellamy made it in safely. You called him every day on a radio for six years, and he just brought you back to life with his bare hands because he refused to accept that you were gone. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

She gives Clarke a pointed look, and Clarke sighs. 

“You’re right, I do know, but—”

“His bare hands, Clarke. I don’t want to hear any excuses. If we are about to walk back in to yet another war, if nothing else, he deserves to know that you feel the same.” 

“But what about Echo? What if he—” 

Clarke begins, every single fear and doubt she’s had since she saw him kiss Echo in that damned desert returning in full force. Octavia raises her hand and says quickly, 

“I may not know what went on in space all those years, but I do know that what he feels for you is written plain across his face, Echo or no Echo. It has been for longer than I can remember. I know the circumstances have never been on your side for these kinds of things, trust me, I understand, but you have time, and you have space to do something about it right now. You should take that chance and run with it, before it’s too late.” 

Octavia watches the suns gilding through the trees, and Clarke takes a moment to look over at where Bellamy and Gabriel are constructing the tent. She has always admired the way Bellamy moves; with a refined grace she would have never expected from him that first time they met. She supposes it has been honed throughout his careful training, both with weapons and with fists, but mostly it’s just him. She usually never allows herself to watch him this openly or for this long, too many judging or calculating eyes around normally. But it’s just his sister here to notice and notice she does. 

“Maybe I should go tell Gabriel to move the tent even farther away if you’re looking at Bell like that. They’re not very soundproof.” 

Octavia says it with a sly grin thrown in Clarke’s direction. Clarke’s face burns, a sensation she hasn’t felt in forever.

“Shut up. Nothing’s going to happen in that tent.” 

Clarke says firmly, now turning away from the man in her field of view to avoid getting caught out again. Octavia lets out a loud one-note cackle of disbelief, which causes both Bellamy and Gabriel to turn toward them in confusion. Octavia gives them a wave to continue before looking at Clarke again. 

“If you say so. I, for one, will be covering my head with a pillow tonight. Maybe find some earplugs. Just in case.” 

Octavia waggles her eyebrows at Clarke, who snorts, and then giggles. She hasn’t giggled since Unity Day at the Dropship. Octavia also giggles, which causes Clarke to start genuinely laughing. Octavia follows suit, and soon they are both laughing so hard they’re holding their stomachs and gasping for breath. Clarke feels a bit like she’s bordering on hysteria, but whatever emotions have been locked up inside of her since that night with Cillian, hell, since she left Bellamy to die in Polis, are coming pouring out of her and she cannot do a thing to stop them. 

Tears start to make hot tracks down her cheeks, her laughs turning to sobs, and she sees Octavia look at her in concern before a strong hand is at her shoulder, Bellamy’s face swimming before her as he kneels in front of her chair. The swarm of emotions in his eyes only makes her cry harder. 

Clarke reaches out, grasps violently at the edges of his stupid beautiful cardigan, probably ruining the stitches, and digs her nails into his shirt, needing something to ground herself to the earth, needing to reassure herself that she’s real, that he’s real, that they’re both here. His hand has moved to rub soothing circles on her back, and she pulls him closer, burying her face in his neck and sliding her arms around him. 

He moves to lift her bodily from her seat, wrapping his arms around her back and under her legs until he’s carrying her across the clearing. Feeling her legs start to slip, she wraps them around his waist, becoming a veritable koala against him, tears still falling down her cheeks but the guttural sobs finally lessening. He only holds her tighter, murmuring words she can’t understand against her hair. 

She can vaguely hear Octavia and Gabriel’s voices getting farther and farther away, until Bellamy uses the arm that was supporting her back to push open their tent’s front flap. She holds him tighter to avoid falling, and then they’re inside and he’s bringing his other arm back around her to pull her even closer. 

They stay like that for a few moments, Clarke completely wrapped around him and their faces buried in the other’s neck until her sobs subside completely and it’s just the cold leftover tears that she can’t stop sliding down her cheeks. Bellamy pulls back just enough to look her in the eyes, and the concern plastered all over his face almost breaks her again. Slowly, she loosens her legs from his waist and lowers them to the ground until she’s standing, but he doesn’t let up on his hold on her back, keeping her pressed against his chest. 

When she feels like she can speak again, she whispers, 

“I missed you.” 

She can’t meet his gaze, knowing that if she does, she might lose any control on her emotions she’s gained back just from being in his arms. He’s not having it, however, using one of his fingers to gently lift her chin so she’s looking directly up at him. She takes strength from the look in his eyes and continues, 

“I’ve missed you for centuries. I’ve missed you since the moment you left me, in that rocket.” 

His breath catches, rattles in his chest, and silver lines his eyes. “Clarke, I—” 

She brings a finger up to his lips, shushing him. 

“No. I don’t say that to make you feel guilty. If you hadn’t left with the others, you would have died, and I would have had to deal with the pain of burying you all by myself. I already have enough ghosts; I didn’t need you to be one too. You did what you had to do, and I am so, so proud of you.” 

She removes her finger from his lips, waits to see if he plans on speaking, and when it’s clear he does not, she continues. 

“I told you all of that in one of my calls, you know. I had just figured out I wouldn’t be able to get into the bunker to be with my mom, and I was trying to stay positive, but it wasn’t easy. I used the idea that you guys had made it and that even if I died, it had been to save you to keep going. I knew that even though you likely couldn’t hear me, it was one way to tell you everything and keep myself sane.” 

Needing to feel more of him, she moves to rest her forehead against his chest, waiting for him to process and speak. He takes a few shaky deep breaths before saying softly,

“I wish I had heard those calls. I know I called you pathetic, but I was so shocked and confused when Madi told me about them that I didn’t know how else to talk to you about them. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that, like when I made that stupid joke. I wanted to ask you more, but then you ran away and the Red Sun started, and we never got the chance to talk about them again. I wish more than anything that the comms could have worked, that I could have heard those calls. Maybe then I wouldn’t have…” 

He trails off, looking away towards the back of the tent. Knowing what he means but needing to hear him say it, she just squeezes him tighter and waits. He takes another deep breath before moving his head to rest on top of hers.

“Maybe then I wouldn’t have tried to forget you by moving on with Echo. I was a wreck for years up there. I kept thinking I would walk around the corner and find you, and I kept having dreams about you. Such simple dreams, things like you sitting at your desk in Arkadia doing paperwork while I read on the couch, or supply run drives in the rover.” 

His voice drops an octave, as he takes another deep breath and says, 

“Other things, too. Things that would wake me up and not leave my mind for hours, days. Things that I had to replace with real memories, so I didn’t go insane.” 

Clarke feels her body heat up at his admission, all at once being too close to him and not close enough. She doesn’t trust herself to respond yet, so she just holds him even tighter, nodding against his chest to encourage him to keep going. He sighs. 

“I loved Echo, eventually. At first it was purely physical, just something both of us needed to chase away the dreams and the shadows. Then I got to know her better, and over time it was easy to forgive her, love her, and for her to love me. When we saw the Eligius ship, and finally had a plan to get back down to Earth, I swore that nothing would change on the ground. She was worried about Octavia’s banishment, but neither of us could have predicted that the real issue was going to be you. You, somehow still alive and with a fiery twelve-year-old who had really good aim.” 

Clarke lets out a snort at that, and finally looks up at him. He’s already watching her, that silver still lining his eyes, but he doesn’t look so broken anymore. 

“We, uh—” He clears his throat, glancing away for a moment before returning, “We broke up. The night of the party. In Sanctum. Before I knew about—you know.” 

Before she got body snatched. He takes another deep breath before continuing, 

“I was so fucking jealous of that doctor.” 

Clarke can’t help the little gasp that escapes her, moving to hide her face against his chest again. 

“Getting to dance with you, making you smile and laugh like that. Getting to actually admire you in that dress, instead of watch like a creep from the sidelines.” 

Clarke laughs, watches the air from her mouth move the fabric of his shirt. “You were jealous?” 

Bellamy snorts. “So jealous. That’s what sparked the break-up, actually. I was pissy, watching you have so much fun while I was injured and unable to come sweep you away, and Echo tried to comfort me, thinking I was upset about leaving Octavia behind. I snapped, and we had an argument. Eventually I realized I was being an ass, and we talked, and she told me she thought she knew the real reason I was so upset, so she ended it.” 

She looks up at him now, and he brings one of his hands up to her hair, brushing back a stray piece that had fallen onto her face. 

“I’m sorry. About the break-up, I mean.” 

Clarke says, not knowing what else she could possibly say after all that he’s admitted. Bellamy nods absent-mindedly. 

“I’m not. Not really. She’s still family, but we never would have lasted. It honestly should have ended the moment Madi burst through those trees and told us you were alive, but the circumstances were never right, and I was in denial.” 

He moves his arms so they are wrapped loosely around the bottom of her back, their chests still pressed together. She takes a deep breath.

“I was jealous, too. After I saw you with Echo in that desert. I couldn’t look at you for hours after. I had spent six years imagining what would happen when you returned, this whole fantasy in my head born of loneliness and fueled by my stories to Madi and her obsession with you. I should’ve realized she was paying attention to my calls, because I never told her outright, but she somehow knew how I felt and kept pestering me for stories about you and me as if we were this great romance in one of her old picture books. I guess some of that went to my head.” 

“And are we? A great romance?” 

He asks the question too carefully, not meeting her gaze. She notes his use of the present tense and files it away, adding it to the fire that’s been building inside her for centuries. She watches his face, still turned away from her slightly, as she says,

“Considering you just brought me back to life with your bare hands like some prince in a fairytale, I’d say so.” 

That gets a small laugh out of him, his eyes finally moving back to meet hers. 

“You always were my princess.” 

Those words settle somewhere deep in her brain and she smiles broadly, watching in amazement as his face lights up and his mouth breaks into a wide smile too. She hasn’t seen that look in years, not since before the Ark came down and they flirted harmlessly in front of a Unity Day bonfire. He leans down to press his forehead to hers, and he starts swaying softly with her, moving to some music only he can hear. 

“What else did you say in those radio calls?” 

Clarke blushes, her mind immediately going to one night when she had been really sad and fed up with everything, including the fact that it had been two whole years with no privacy, having to keep constant vigilance for the eight-year-old who was too curious for her own good. 

“Nothing.” 

She replies, trying to hide her face. Bellamy catches her chin with a hand, not letting her duck it to press her face against his chest. His thumb reaches up to brush against her pink cheek. He stares at her, his pupils now a little wider, and his breathing becoming quicker. 

“What else did you say in those radio calls?” 

His voice gains a little bit of that commanding tone he used to use on the kids at the dropship, and Clarke’s toes curl, just like they did back then. When she doesn’t answer, he drops his hand from her chin to bring it back around her back, before he gently grips her sides with both hands and pulls her hips flush against his own. Clarke sees stars at the hardness she feels, and she lets out a small noise without meaning to. Bellamy’s pupils get even wider, until the brown is almost completely taken over by black. He repeats the motion with his hands, and at the even firmer press of hardness against her core, Clarke gasps out, 

“There was a night. I think it was a few months past the two-year anniversary of praimfaya and I was so lonely. I knew that if you could respond, you would have already, so I guessed the signal wasn’t being received either. I got a little brave, made sure Madi was safely asleep on the other side of the village, and I pretended you were there with me, talking me through touching myself on the radio.” 

Bellamy groans low and long then, his forehead falling to rest against hers again. 

“If anyone had actually been able to hear me, I would’ve been so embarrassed. That was the first and only time I did that.” 

Clarke’s last words are a little breathless, unsure how to continue after that admission. This is the first time they have ever been this open about their sex lives with each other, and even though his reactions are promising, she’s still so nervous. They’ve been dancing around the one topic she knows they need to address before this gets too heated, the words too important, too vital to speak aloud at the wrong moment. 

She’s about to speak again when he cuts her off, 

“I wasn’t sure if I should tell you before, but I thought about you, too. On the ring. If that wasn’t obvious.” 

She nods breathlessly, wanting so much to ask him what he thought about, but knowing if she did, they’d cross into that unknown territory without those vital words being spoken. She pushes out of his arms, needing to be away from him to think clearly and not do something stupid like get up on her toes to press her lips against his. She spots a flash of hurt in his eyes before he turns away and runs a hand through his hair. He takes a few steps back, before removing the cardigan and tossing it to the floor, his hands scrubbing over his face. 

“I’m sorry. That was probably too much, you’ve just come out of a horrifyingly violating experience and here I am throwing myself at you.” 

He looks disgusted with himself, and no, Clarke needs to rectify that immediately. She crosses the room quickly and hugs him to her again, pressing herself as close as she can manage. He hesitates, but eventually wraps his arms around her again. She pulls back to look him in the eye. 

“You’re not throwing yourself at me. Trust me, it is fully welcomed. I just—” 

She has to take a few breaths to steady her thoughts. 

“I just think we should probably talk more… before…” 

She glances down at where a bulge is beginning to tent out the front of his pants. He takes a deep breath before nodding and letting go of her but grabbing her wrist to thread his fingers through hers. 

“You’re right, we should talk more,” Bellamy holds their hands up, looking at them with a mixture of awe and longing. “I wanna do one thing first, though. If that’s okay.” 

Clarke looks back at him with an eyebrow raised, before nodding slowly. He uses their joined hands to pull her closer to him, their bodies not quite touching. His other hand comes up to gently caress her cheek before settling there, tilting her face up slightly, his eyes on her mouth. He moves his head closer, so their breath is mingling in the space between their mouths as he says, 

“I’ve been wanting to do this for centuries,” and leans down to press his lips to hers. 

It’s a chaste kiss, just the soft press of his mouth against her own, but Clarke feels sparks shoot through her body at the touch anyway. She tries to keep herself in check, not wanting to spoil the moment, but she needs to feel more of him, so she threads her other hand into his unruly hair and pushes herself closer to him, going onto her toes. Her eyes fall closed, and she relishes in the feeling of that bulge back against her core. Everything about this feels so right, like nothing in the world has ever made more sense than what’s happening right now, the warm feel of Bellamy against every part of her body. 

His hand at her cheek moves to cup her chin and he lets his tongue brush slightly against the seam of her lips before he pulls back. She chases him, needing, wanting more but he just laughs softly before leading her over to the two makeshift chairs he and Gabriel must have set up while she was having her moment. He sits in the one on the right, and Clarke looks at the one to the left for a long moment before making a decision. Still holding his right hand with her hand, she settles herself sideways on his lap, looping her left arm around his neck. His left arm comes to wrap around her thigh, and he shifts her slightly, letting their joined hands fall onto her lap.

“This okay?” Clarke asks softly, and Bellamy nods, looking a little strained.

“Yes. More than okay. I’m just not sure how long “talking” will work with you on my lap like this.” 

He shifts his legs beneath her again and the telltale feeling of his erection brushes against her backside. She shivers and moves her hand to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. Now it’s his turn to shiver, and their eyes lock. They stare at each other intently for what could be minutes or hours before his thumb moves to rub her thigh gently. 

“What else did you want to talk about, princess?” 

She has a hard time remembering her reasons for requesting this when one of his big warm hands is resting on her thigh and the thumb of the other is rubbing soft circles against her skin. But she draws her focus back and gets her thoughts in order.

“I—I heard you. In the mindspace. Josephine had betrayed me, and I was dying inside my own head and then I heard you.” 

She takes a shaky breath before continuing, 

“You brought me back. I gave up the fight against her, gave up the information about the EMP because she tricked me into thinking you had given up on me to trade for safety for our people. I was heartbroken, but I understood, because it’s what I would have asked you to do if I was there to make the decision with you. But it still hurt. And then you didn’t give up on me, and you sacrificed everyone else to save me. I’m here because of you.” 

Bellamy nods slowly, his eyes not leaving her own. He takes a deep breath before speaking,

“I lied. During the Red Sun. I thought that I didn’t need you anymore, that you weren’t absolutely vital to my happiness, my survival. But you are, Clarke. And I do need you. I need you in every part of my life, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you again, not after the last time. Those six years of thinking you were dead were my personal hell, and then I got you back but not really, and just when I thought we could finally have a chance, you died again and I thought I was dying from the pain of it, of not getting to hold you, talk to you ever again. 

“But I couldn’t die to be with you, not when Madi needed someone, not when the chance of peace was just barely in our grasp. And then I got your message. Everyone thought I was crazy, but I knew you were alive. I felt it in my soul. I couldn’t just do nothing then, even at the cost of everyone else’s safety. And maybe that makes me a selfish bastard, but I couldn’t let you slip through my fingers again. I’m not letting you go, Clarke. Never again.” 

Clarke swallows, her throat closing up with emotion. She feels tears prick at her eyes, and Bellamy’s brows come together as he strokes her face gently, wiping away a tear that escapes. She lets out a shaky laugh, before taking a deep breath. 

“Ugh. I haven’t cried this much in literal centuries.” 

“I haven’t been this happy in literal centuries. I could stay here forever, with you in my arms.” 

He squeezes her tightly for emphasis. 

The tears run freely now, and she sees a few gather in Bellamy’s eyes as well. They’ve shared so much, but they still haven’t crossed that last verbal barrier. The one that terrifies her. She knows he loves her. He has to know she loves him. But actually saying it to him, and hearing him say it back to her… she’s not sure her heart would survive it. It’s already full to bursting with his words these past minutes. Clarke can’t tear her eyes from his face, and the courage is building in her, the words finally bubbling up from where they’ve been locked away from fear all these years.

“Bellamy—”

“Clarke—” 

They speak at the same time, and cut themselves off, before laughing softly. She knows that this is the moment, that he had also finally built up the courage to speak those three words. Clarke wipes a tear that falls from his eyes, and whispers, 

“On three?” Bellamy nods, his eyes locked on hers. “Okay. One,” her breath catches in her lungs, having to choke out the words.

“Two,” he whispers, his voice low and deep.

“Three,” Clarke can’t breathe.

They stare into each other’s eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you.” 

The words fall from their lips in almost perfect sync, causing lightning to course through her body before settling around her heart, encasing it in warmth. She’s fairly certain it will beat itself out of her chest with the force of its pounding, and, untangling her fingers from his, she lifts her hand to rest against his chest, feeling his heart doing the same. Bellamy’s hand comes up to rest against her forehead. Her eyes close, the gentleness in the touch breaking her heart, and she hears his sharp intake of breath before he speaks. 

“The heart and the head.” 

She opens her eyes, watching his face as she leans toward him, trying to control the trembling in her hands. Just when there’s mere centimeters between their lips, she whispers,

“The head and the heart.” 

He’s trembling too, obviously trying to hold himself back, and Clarke smiles softly before she closes the distance between their mouths. This kiss starts the same way their first did, chaste and calm, a little salty and wet from both of their tears. He moves his hands to clasp around her hips, and his tongue darts out against her top lip. She gasps and he takes his chance to grip her harder and sweep inside her mouth. She can feel his erection pushing even harder against her ass now, and she wriggles down, feeling a sense of satisfaction as his hips stutter up. She smiles against his mouth and decides to switch things up by breaking the kiss and sitting up enough to throw her left leg to the other side of his hips, now straddling his lap. 

Clarke smiles at him as he brings his arms around her back, holding her against him. He’s pressed directly against her core now, and she needs to feel more of him, so she grinds her hips down. He groans, his head falling against her shoulder, breathing hard. 

“Princess. This is not going to last long if you keep doing that.” 

She only repeats the motion, relishing the feeling of him losing that carefully crafted control and pushing up into her again. He makes a sound low in his throat and lifts his head to claim her mouth again, none of the chaste kisses from before left as he pulls her fully against him and pushes her down firmly onto his lap. She opens her mouth to him, letting him do whatever he wants to her, but giving as good as she gets. They stay like that for a few minutes, just getting the feel for each other, swapping kisses that leave her completely breathless. 

She would be content to just sit and kiss him for hours, but they are on a little bit of borrowed time, since they have plans to fulfill tomorrow. People to save. With that thought, Clarke moves her hands to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck and breaks the kiss, her chest heaving. 

“Bellamy, please.” 

She lets a little bit of a whine tint her tone, and the effect is immediate as he moves a hand to rest on her upper thigh, so close to where she wants him, his eyes growing wider and his other hand flexing on her lower back. 

His voice is low and gravelly, and he moves his lips near her ear, whispering, 

“Please what, princess?” 

That hand moves to the buttons of her pants, lifting the edge of her shirt up just enough to brush his fingers against the soft skin of her lower stomach. 

“Is this what you want, love?” 

The first button is freed, followed by the second. Clarke lets her forehead fall onto his neck, her breaths coming in harsh gasps and he attacks the space just above her shoulder with his lips, that hand ghosting over the final button of her pants. He licks and sucks, his teeth scraping just enough to sting and make her gasp. He uses her gasp as a distraction to undo the final button and slide his hand into her pants, just barely brushing against her through the fabric of her underwear, but it’s enough to make her moan softly. 

“Bellamy,” 

Clarke’s voice is low and breathy, her breath hitching as he presses his thumb gently against the apex of her thighs before removing his hand entirely. She whines at the loss and looks up to find him smirking at her. 

“Yes, princess? Is there something you want?” 

Frustrated, she grinds down against him again, but he moves his hands to grip underneath her ass and lift her off of him a few inches. She feels the muscles bunch in his arms under her hands where she grabs at him for stability, and something about the proof of his strength, his ability to lift her off of him like this, and how he had been able to carry her straight across the clearing earlier, causes a flood of heat to flow straight to her core. 

Clarke glares at him, knowing he’s only doing this to tease her. 

“You know what I want.” 

She leans forward and gives him a quick but dirty kiss before breaking away and smirking as he chases her mouth. 

He meets her eyes, and his crinkle at the sides as he grins, 

“I’m gonna need to hear you say it, princess.” 

She’s aware he’s teasing her, trying to get a rise out of her to chase away any lingering shadows from the past week, but she looks at him, really looks at him, and knows suddenly he’s not only teasing. There’s a kernel of vulnerability hidden in those words, some insecurity he’s harbored for years and years deep within himself. That he’s not good enough, that he doesn’t deserve good things in his life, and now, even as she’s straddling his lap on the verge of begging him to take her, he still doesn’t think he deserves her, deserves this.

Clarke relaxes into his arms, and he slowly lowers her back down onto his lap, noticing the change in her countenance. She moves her hands to either side of his face and looks him directly in the eyes. 

“Bellamy. I love you. I want you; I want this. I want this more than anything I’ve ever wanted, besides wanting my daughter safe and happy. You and Madi are my entire world, and I will do anything to keep you as long as you’ll have me.” 

She can see the moment his resolve breaks, something in his eyes changing. She barely has enough time to hold on before he’s standing up from the chair, one arm wrapped around her back and one underneath her. 

“I love you, too.”

He punctuates the words with a kiss, and she giggles. He smiles at her, whatever dark emotions that had been lingering finally gone. 

Bellamy walks her slowly toward the small cot that had been constructed at the back of the tent and her toes curl in anticipation. He must realize the cot is not very far off the ground, so he gently releases the arm from under her so she can set her feet on the ground. Once she’s stable, he’s backing her up so the bottoms of her calves hit the edge of the cot, and she glances backwards before grabbing his shirt collar and falling onto the mattress, bringing him with her. 

He braces himself above her with one arm so as not to crush her, but she pulls on his collar, wanting to feel more of him against her. He relents, only a few inches, still holding himself up a little. He simply watches her for a moment, and she takes the time to explore his face with her fingers in a way she has never been able to no matter how much she wished it. 

Clarke traces the constellations of freckles on his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose, before running her fingers across his forehead and down along the edge of his jaw. She finishes by tracing his lips, first with her fingers, then leaning up to do the same with her mouth. 

He stays still, letting her do what she wants, but as soon as her tongue pokes out against his top lip, he groans low in his throat and opens his mouth, deepening the kiss with a force he has yet to show her. She returns it, needing to lose herself in the taste of him, the feel of him. His hands stay politely at his side and by her head, still being used to brace himself above her, but she has no such inhibitions, her hands beginning to move down across his back, feeling down the groove of his spine and ending at the waistband of his pants, where she dips below just to feel the warmth of his skin against her fingertips. 

She lifts the back of his shirt a little, and slides her hands underneath, savoring the strength of his lower back as he tenses. His kisses slow down, and he breaks away to meet her eyes before nodding slowly and moving to press his mouth against her jaw, then her throat, her shoulder, then finally the top of her breast just below the neckline of her tank. Clarke gasps loudly, and takes his lead, bringing her hands around to press against the skin of his stomach, reveling in the jumps and skitters of his muscles as she paints her fingers across them. She slowly brings her hands up to his chest, pulling the hem of the shirt with her until she’s tugging at it impatiently. 

Bellamy lifts his head from where he’d been suckling a mark into her lower throat and presses another kiss to her mouth before he sits up and takes the shirt off in that guy way, pulling it from the back. She sits up with him and starts to reach for her own hem when he takes her hands in his own and sets them back on the bed. 

“Let me.” 

His voice is wrecked, and she can only nod as he lifts the bottom of her shirt, slowly pulling it up and then off of her now raised arms. He throws it to the side and blatantly surveys her, causing her cheeks and the top of her chest to flush a light pink. She has to resist the urge to cover herself at the intensity in his gaze. He grasps her shoulder, gently pushing her until she’s lying down again and he’s kneeling, straddling her legs, her breasts straining against the fabric of her threadbare bra. A hand comes up to trace the upper edge of the fabric, causing goose bumps to erupt all over her skin. 

“Can I take this off too?” 

Bellamy’s whisper is soft, reverent, and he’s bringing his hand around to her back, fingering the worn clasp gently. Clarke nods frantically, suddenly desperately needing to feel his hands on her, holding her skin to skin. The clasp is deftly undone, and she reaches around to take off the garment before it’s tossed to the ground somewhere in the vicinity of their shirts. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, which is then caught between his teeth as he watches her with pure hunger. 

She traces the movement with her eyes greedily, waiting for his next move. When all he does is stare, she groans impatiently and sits up again, capturing his mouth with hers and pulling her chest flush against his, her arms banding around his neck. He inhales sharply through his nose, not breaking the kiss. His arms wrap around her back and her breasts flatten out against him, their kisses turning dirtier as he explores the newly bare skin. 

His hands are so big and broad, it feels like he’s covering all of her with just both of them. This is so much better than their usual hugs. When he snorts, she realizes she said that out loud against his lips, but she can’t bring herself to be embarrassed. She does need to feel those hands other places, though, so she pulls back, noting with some satisfaction the redness of his mouth, swollen from her kisses. 

She leans back against the small pillows and takes one of his hands, guiding it to her breast. His eyes widen, and he only lets himself grope her gently, soft touches that drive her crazy. She arches her back, pushing her breast further into his hand and his other clenches the sheets into a fist next to her shoulder. 

“Bellamy,” she pleads breathlessly, “touch me, I’m telling you to touch me.” 

He smirks down at her and gives her nipple a sudden hard tweak that has her gasping. 

“What do you mean? I am touching you.” 

Clarke shoots him a glare, pinching his bicep just enough to sting. He looks mock wounded, but there’s a new mischievous glint in his eyes that has more heat pooling in her core. He scoots himself down her body, his hips directly above hers now, and he leans down to brush his nose against hers and to press a kiss to her lips that ends way too quickly. 

That hand at her breast starts making slow lazy circles around her nipple, occasionally tweaking and pinching. Just when she’s about to beg for more, he pinches it one last time before moving his hand to her other breast where it begins the same ministrations. She moans at the change in sensations, then moans even louder, choking out a strangled “Oh” as his mouth closes around the breast he just abandoned. Bellamy licks and bites at the nipple, now super sensitized from his hand and she’s bucking her hips up against him, unable to control her movements. 

His other hand comes to her hip to hold her down, and this time he uses enough pressure to leave a light bruise. Her eyes roll back in her head at the triple sensations, and she feels like she’s so close to coming just from this, and how long drawn out this has been. 

“Bellamy, I— I need—” 

He lifts his head from her breast, the suction release making an obscene popping sound. He leans down to kiss her soundly before pulling back. 

“Yes, love? What do you need? Tell me.” 

His hand comes up to trace along her jaw and the love shining in his eyes makes her feel like her heart will burst. She reaches up to kiss him before pulling back and biting her bottom lip shyly. 

“Use your words, princess.”

That hand moves to pull her lip from her teeth, and she takes the chance to suck the tip of his thumb into her mouth, licking and nipping it, watching his blissed-out expression with satisfaction. She releases it with a kiss and takes a deep breath. 

“I need your fingers. In me. Now.” 

Bellamy lets out strangled groan and gets off the bed so suddenly that Clarke is worried she was too vulgar or moved too quickly. Only when she sees him toeing off his boots and adjusting himself in his pants before coming to kneel at the edge of the bed does she understand. He lifts one of her booted feet, gently undoing the laces before removing it and repeating the motions on the other. 

Normally, she would try to assist in the task of undressing herself, but there’s something so peaceful about Bellamy as he does this for her that she lets him with no protest, simply watching him work. He removes her socks too, and then crawls back up her body to press a kiss to her cheek, her nose, and finally her mouth. 

He stays there for a moment, before a hand strays to the still undone buttons of her pants. She shivers as he snakes his hand just inside the waistband around to her hipbone. There he gently pushes the fabric until it gives, his other hand coming to do the same to the opposite side. So slowly, he pushes her pants down off her ass and hips, until the fabric pools around her thighs. 

Bellamy leaves her mouth then to press open mouthed kisses to her now bare upper thighs, his warm breath ghosting against her surely soaked underwear. He finishes pulling her pants down and then off of her legs, the thick fabric hitting the floor with a thump. He follows the motion with his mouth, pressing more kisses to her knees, to her shins, and to her ankles before coming back up to her hips. He glances up at her from under his lashes, hovering a few inches above her core. 

She can’t look away as he ghosts his fingers between her legs, just a whisper of a touch that causes her to shiver. He presses a kiss to each of her hips before bringing his hands to the waistband of her underwear, starting to drag them down her legs. He doesn’t waste time, pulling them over her feet before tossing them onto their pile of clothes. 

Clarke can see the glittering lust in his eyes as he moves back up her body, getting his torso settled between her legs and his head between her thighs. She’s trembling in anticipation, and she reaches down to smooth her hands across his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense underneath her fingers. 

She thought she would be nervous, shy at being completely naked before him, but the look in his eyes gives her a certain confidence she’s never felt before. He watches her for a few moments, his eyes traveling up and down her body in slow, reverent movements, seeming for all the world like he’s content to do just that forever. 

“Bellamy,” she whines, and he meets her eyes, the smirk he gives her causing her toes to curl. 

“Patience, princess.” 

He brings a hand to glide across the soft skin above her core, then down finally to where she’s surely dripping onto the sheets. He dips his index finger lightly inside her, stroking softly. 

“All of this for me?” 

Clarke nods frantically, pushing her hips down against his fingers. He laughs darkly, using his other hand to press on her lower stomach, effectively holding her down.

That finger inches further into her, and she suddenly remembers the last time she did this, days ago but almost like it was years ago, the memory of the pleasure followed by such unending terror and sadness flaring up. She must be letting every emotion show on her face because he stops moving, strokes her hip gently with the hand holding her down. 

“You doing alright, love?” 

Her heart breaks at his tone and she nods, cupping his cheek with a hand. 

“Yes. It’s just— it’s just the last time, I...” 

Bellamy’s eyes soften even more, understanding shining through and he nods, turning his head to press a kiss to her palm. 

“If you need me to stop, I understand. We don’t have to do anything tonight. I’m content to just be here, with you. Hold you.” 

More tears gather in her eyes and she wipes at them, saying, 

“I want you. I think if nothing happens tonight, I might explode because of how much I want you. Just— go slow. I’ll let you know if it gets to be too much.” 

He nods, scooting up to brush his mouth against hers, feathering kisses there before moving back down to her hips. She lets her knees fall open wider and he gives her a soft smile. The finger he has inside her had stayed obediently still, and he meets her gaze, waiting. She gives him a quick nod and he wriggles it a little, pushing further in and pressing up. She clenches down on it, the movement instinctual and he groans, pulling it out. Another finger joins it, and he swirls them around in her wetness before he meets her eyes again. 

Clarke nods, biting her lip as he slowly pushes both of them inside, the slight stretch so wonderful that she sighs. He pumps them in and out of her a few times, smiling every time she involuntarily clenches down. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips and he looks at her again, another question in his eyes. She reaches up to tangle her hands in his hair, gently pushing down on his head in answer. The grin he gives her is blinding, and he follows her lead, leaning down to press a kiss to her inner thigh, then the other side, before finally getting his mouth on her. 

The first swipe of his tongue sets her on fire, and his fingers begin moving more rapidly, wet sounds reaching her ears. She moans loudly, a guttural sound she has never heard herself make and she feels Bellamy laugh against her, the sensation causing her hips to jerk up. He presses his tongue harder against her, swirling it around in time with his fingers moving in and out of her before moving to clamp his lips around her clit and sucking it into his mouth. 

She lets out a high-pitched gasp, threading her fingers more tightly into his curls. He groans, the sound vibrating through her. Taking that as a sign, she pulls gently on his hair, and he shoves his face more firmly against her, sucking harder. Wanting a deeper angle, she moves her legs so they’re resting on top of his shoulders and his other unoccupied hand moves to grip onto her knee tightly. 

The change in position allows him to get even deeper inside her, and she can feel something tightening deep inside her, white hot pleasure rippling up and down her limbs. All it takes is a particularly hard suck and his fingers crooking up to press against that part of her she’s certain no one has ever touched before, and then she’s falling apart, loud, high pitched moans escaping before she can stop them. 

Clarke feels her walls clenching uncontrollably around his fingers, and he works her through it, lightly kissing and nipping at her until the spasms stop and she relaxes, falling boneless to the sheets. He presses one more kiss to her, removes his fingers, then makes his way back up her body, stopping to press wet kisses to each breast and then between them. He settles with their heads level, holding himself up on his elbows. 

“How was that?” 

Bellamy asks softly, reaching up to push some of her hair off her forehead and behind her ear with the hand that wasn’t just inside her. She smiles lazily up at him, one of her hands coming to grasp a curl that falls on his forehead in her fingers and twisting it around. 

“That was wonderful.” 

He grins, leaning down as if he’s going to kiss her before hesitating. She quirks an eyebrow at him, confused. He ducks his head, blushing. 

“I uh, wasn’t sure if you were a fan of, you know. Tasting yourself.” 

Her cheeks burn, lightning rolling through her at the thought of tasting herself on his tongue. She pushes herself up onto her elbows and presses her mouth against his in an open-mouthed kiss, tangling her tongue with his immediately. She can taste him, but also something else, something heady and musky. She groans into his mouth and he moves so he’s gripping her shoulders, suddenly flipping them over so she’s on top. 

This position allows her to feel his erection pressing with impressive insistence against her backside and she pushes back and down against him, feeling him gasp into her mouth. She smiles against his lips and she grinds down again, relishing in the jerk of his hips. 

“Princess.”

He grinds the word out, moving one of his hands to the back of her neck. She presses a last kiss to his mouth before she starts moving down his body, leaving kisses on his jaw, down his throat, and across his pectorals, following the motions with her fingertips. She brings them down to brush across his abs, feeling his entire chest move up and down with his ragged breathing. She looks up to see his face, looking completely wrecked as he watches her trace his body with her fingers. 

“You’re so beautiful.” 

Bellamy’s voice is low and deep, and the words shouldn’t mean that much, but she blushes and ducks her head. He must see the doubt, because he brings a hand to her face and says softly, “You are.” 

She smiles, tracing his abs again before glancing up at him. 

“You’re beautiful too. I feel like I’ve waited years to touch you like this.” 

Clarke leans down to kiss his stomach lightly, feeling his muscles flutter against her lips. He laughs softly. 

“I always knew you were looking at the dropship.” 

She gasps in mock outrage, bringing a hand to her heart. 

“How dare you. I was nothing but proper.”

“Well, I definitely looked at you. There was one time when you had to go without a bra for a day for some reason that I never figured out. I thought I was going to die the entire damn day. And don’t even get me started on your stupid perfect princess hair, it drove me crazy. I thought, no one has the right to look this good when our only means of bathing was in a shallow river or with buckets. Yet you managed to have half the camp lusting after you.” 

Her blush deepens and she moves her hands to his hips, feeling the dips and ridges. 

“You’re one to talk. Walking around without a shirt. Those girls parading around boasting of your skills. Everyone wanted you. I told myself I didn’t care, but after that night by the tree, I kept wondering why you never sought me out. On Unity Day, if Finn hadn’t...” 

The memory of the first boy she had loved, really the only boy she had loved besides the man currently sprawled underneath her, brings a tinge of sadness. She meets Bellamy’s gaze, and he nods softly, knowing and understanding how she feels on a fundamental level. She takes a deep breath before continuing, 

“If Finn hadn’t made that deal with Lincoln, I think I would’ve come to your tent that night, screw the consequences.”

“If I didn’t come to yours first.”

He pinches her side lightly, making her giggle.

“You had never flirted with me that openly before, I was so tempted to grab you and take you back to mine right then, but I had to be responsible and go on watch.”

Clarke laughs softly, that heat building slowly inside her again. 

“Could you imagine? If we’d gotten the time to explore this so early on?” 

She had years on a planet alone with Madi to think about what they could have had, if either of them had taken that step at the dropship. He looks thoughtful before responding, 

“I knew I was totally gone for you even before I taught you how to shoot, and that night only solidified how I felt. But I think if we’d crossed that line, all that happened afterward would’ve been that much harder.” 

She watches an old wound flicker across his vision, a hurt she knows is mirrored in her own. She leans down to rest her head in the crook of his shoulder, holding him as best she can in this position. His arms come to wrap around her, squeezing. 

“Do you ever miss Lexa?” 

His voice is quiet, curious. She sniffs softly. 

“Yes. Sometimes I feel like I barely knew her, and other times I feel like I knew her better than anyone. I know we loved each other, that love will always be part of my heart, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop grieving her, but there was always something pulling me away. I know now that it was you.” 

He’s quiet, and a calm silence falls over them as she listens to his breathing.

“Do you miss Gina?” 

She asks the question softly, looking up to watch his face. He doesn’t answer for a few moments before whispering, 

“Most of the time. But sometimes... sometimes I forget about her. And I feel so damn guilty about it, because she was good and she loved me, and I know I loved her. There was always this invisible presence stopping me from giving everything to her, though. I subconsciously knew that it was the memory of you, knowing you were out there somewhere, that you had left me, that was holding me back, but once she died, I felt so guilty about it. And then you came back, so obviously falling for Lexa, and even though Gina had just died, and I was broken from that, I was so angry with you, for leaving, for betraying me with another woman even though you owed me nothing of your heart that I snapped. Obviously, given recent events, I can’t stay mad at you for long.” 

He snorts after he finishes, tightening his arms around her back. She nuzzles her face deeper into his neck, and he presses a kiss to her hair. She wants to apologize once more for her most recent betrayal, but she thinks they dealt with that enough the day everything went to shit, somehow just a few days ago, so she doesn’t bring it up again. They stay like that, just existing in each other’s space. Somehow, their breathing ends up perfectly in sync and Clarke smiles, her cheek pressed against his chest. 

“What?” 

His question is soft, and she can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I’m just really happy, Bellamy. I never thought we’d get this, any of it.” 

He presses another kiss to her hair, and she rolls over so she’s resting chest to chest on top of him. 

“I never thought we’d get this, either. I never thought I’d have you, much less have you naked in bed with me.” 

She laughs as his hand caresses her backside for emphasis, his gaze going to her breasts pressed against his bare chest. The fire still burning inside her grows even more wild at the touch. That hand stills, before trailing down below her ass and between her legs, pressing against her gently. She knows she’s still wet, and though his erection had died down a little with the emotions of the last few minutes, she feels it start to press against her thigh. 

One of her legs falls to the other side of his waist so she’s straddling him again. The fabric of his pants against her core creates a glorious friction, and she rubs against it, probably leaving a stain but she can’t bring herself to care. Her fingers move to the button of his pants, and she undoes it, the sound of it clinking against the zipper the only sound beyond their heavy breathing. She looks up at him, watching for any reluctance and he meets her eyes before nodding, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. 

She plays with the zipper for a moment, Her fingers brush the skin just above his waistband, skating across lightly. She bites her lip as he twitches beneath her, the only reaction she can detect. She settles herself more firmly against him, and there’s his hips jerking up into hers. A triumphant smile plays at her lips, and she finally takes hold of the zipper tab and pulls it down in one motion, slipping her hand inside and palming him through his boxers. 

He grunts but stops himself, his fists clenching the sheets. Clarke doesn’t know when this turned into a competition, but now she’s determined to make him make more of those noises she heard earlier, determined to win this little game he’s started. 

Her hand pushes more forcefully against his erection, giving him a little bit of friction but not quite what she knows he really wants. She tries again, this time sliding her fingers just underneath his boxers, grazing the sensitive skin there with her nails lightly. Bellamy stiffens, still clenching the sheets between his fingers. Sliding out from underneath the fabric, she changes the course of her hand to snake under his body and palm at his ass through his pants. She scoffs at the muscles she feels, and at his quizzical look she rolls her eyes. 

“You’re perfect, just like I dreamed you’d be.” 

That gets a full-throated laugh out of him and he brings a hand up to squeeze a breast. 

“You’re perfect too. Just like I dreamed you’d be.” 

“Get your own lines,” she grumbles, even though she’s blushing a furious red. 

He laughs again, “Fine! Let’s see: ‘you’re a goddess, and I want to lay myself at your feet and worship you’?” 

She giggles, using the moment to push his pants down a little off his ass. 

“Or, how about: ‘the day you were born was the day my universe was created’?” 

She blushes even further, then she says cheekily, “Do you even know when my birthday is?” 

He opens his mouth to respond immediately, then closes it, his brows furrowing together. 

She gasps, “You’ve known me for, what is it now, 130 years? And you never learned my birthday?” 

“In my defense, we were a little busy. Do you know my birthday?” 

She ducks her head, not meeting his eyes. “Yes. November 24th.” 

He looks shocked and quickly asks, “How do you know that?” 

She shakes her head, embarrassed. 

“What? How did you find out? Octavia?” 

Another shake of the head. 

“Clarke, tell me! It can’t be that bad.” 

He pinches her side when she still won’t confess, then slides his hand up to tickle under her arm. She shrieks and grabs his hand, stopping him. 

“Okay, okay, my mom ran a background check on you from what was left of the Ark’s systems after they crashed, and I found your file. I didn’t read it past your general information page with your photo, but I saw your birthday and sort of never forgot when it was. We’ve never been together when it’s passed, so I never thought to mention it to you.” 

He’s smiling broadly at her, his hand still resting on the sensitive skin near her arm. 

“Clarke Griffin. I never took you for a snoop, although maybe I should’ve known better. I think it’s only fair that since you learned mine without my permission that you tell me yours, so I can never forget it.” 

“October 24th. We’re birth date twins.” 

“Of course we are.” 

His voice is soft, and he trails that hand up across her chest, up her throat until he’s cupping her cheek. There’s something in his eyes, some emotion she can’t place but that is filling her chest with a lovely warmth around her heart. 

“How about this for a line: I want to spend eons with you, Clarke Griffin.” 

She gasps, her breath catching in her throat. Just when she thought she couldn’t cry any more tears today, his words bring up a fresh wave that she can’t stop. They spill over her cheeks and run down her face, and Bellamy leans up to kiss them away, before moving to her mouth and kissing her sweetly. 

“I want to spend eons with you, too, Bellamy Blake.” She says, pulling back and watching his eyes crinkle as he grins. 

“Didn’t we just talk about using our own lines?” 

She rolls her eyes, moving to kiss him again. During their teasing, Clarke had somehow forgotten the fact that she is naked in his lap, while he still has two layers of clothing on, albeit unbuttoned and halfway off his ass, and that needs to be remedied immediately. She pulls back from the kiss and drags her hands down to his pants, impatiently tugging them down off his hips. 

It’s a slight struggle to get them off of him, given she’s still sat on top of his lap, so she sighs and crawls backward off the bed, making it easier to pull the fabric completely off his legs. He’s left in just his underwear, almost nothing hiding the full length of his erection from her now. She gulps, then swallows, her eyes trained on his crotch. 

Bellamy makes a satisfied noise at what must be written all over her face, and she sticks her tongue out at him before she reaches up to pull that last bit of fabric down and off him, throwing them to the floor. His cock bobs in front of her, and her mouth is suddenly dry. She hasn’t done what she’s about to do in years, but she desperately needs to get her mouth on him. Crawling back up his body, she settles herself between his legs on her knees, reaching out to wrap a tentative hand around him. 

He sucks in a breath, his hands returning to the sheets and she takes that as her cue to start moving, her other hand joining to cover more of him. His breath is coming in short pants, so she decides to see if he can make more of those noises from earlier and brings her mouth down to close lightly around the tip, her tongue catching the bead of liquid that had seeped out. 

He jerks violently, barking out a loud “shit” but his hands stay firmly fisted in the sheets, his hips politely tensed to remain still. Not having any of that, Clarke removes her hands, replacing them with a long lick down then back up the underside of his shaft before closing her mouth around him again and taking him as deep as she can comfortably. His hips stutter up, seemingly without his permission and she grins as much as she can with her lips around him as they are, repeating her previous motion. 

His hips stutter up again, but with more force, and she reaches down to grasp one of his hands, bringing it to the back of her head, showing him that he can tangle his hands in her hair, let go a little bit. Bellamy follows her silent instructions, pulling but not too hard, and she repeats the motion again, going a little deeper this time and adding a hand back to the bottom to cover what she can’t reach with her mouth. He lets his hip stutter and jerk a few more times before he uses the hand tangled in her hair to halt her, his other hand coming to wrap around her chin and lift her off of him as he sits up. 

“Princess, this definitely won’t go any further if you continue.” 

His thumb reaches up to wipe her lip, lingering there. “Beautiful,” he says with the same reverence as before. 

She kisses his thumb lightly, then scoots herself closer to him, moving her legs to fit on either side of his hips so she can get as close as possible. She curls her legs around his back, basically sitting on his lap again. His cock juts against her stomach now, and she wraps her arms around his neck, wrapping the curls at the base around her fingers. He uses one arm to grip her ass and the other to wrap around her back, just holding her against him for a moment before he rocks his hips against hers. 

“Is this how you want it, princess?” 

She nods frantically, pressing her forehead against his and shifting her hips closer. 

“Yes. I wanna hold you. I feel so safe in your arms, nowhere else. Like I’m home.” 

The tip of his cock bumps against her entrance with the next roll of his hips, and a shockwave jolts through her body, making her shiver. He leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to her lips and uses the hand under her ass to lift her just enough so he can push into her a little. She whimpers, feeling her walls clench sporadically around the bit of him inside her and she locks eyes with him. He nods, knowing he needs to give her time to adjust and content to wait. 

“Just breathe, princess. I’ve got you. You’re safe here. I love you, so much. You let me know what you need, and I’ll give it to you.” 

She nods too, biting her lip as the stretch begins to lessen. 

“I need to—" she begins, but stops, not knowing how to verbalize it. 

He waits as she searches for the words. She can’t find them, so she adjusts her hands to where she’s bracing them on his shoulders, lifting herself off of him a bit before settling back down a little further than before. His brows raise, and he lets out a soft “ah” of understanding before nodding. 

Both his arms come around her back, just holding her to him, then he’s pressing his face into her neck, giving her control of how much of him she takes. She takes a deep breath before lifting herself up and then lowering back down again, taking more of him inside her this time. She feels his breath catch, and the stretch isn’t as bad, so she repeats the motion once, twice, then he’s fully seated inside her, and they’re pressed as close together as two people possibly could be. 

They breathe deeply together for a few moments, getting used to the sensation and Clarke feels more tears prick at her eyes because of how right this feels. He lifts his head from her shoulder as she releases her double vice grip on his, moving her hands back to the base of his neck and threading her fingers up in his hair. As his eyes lock with hers, she notes that there are tears pooling in his eyes too, and she leans forward to kiss him deeply before pulling back. 

“Make love to me, Bellamy.” 

Her voice catches, breaks, but he understands, and his hips start a slow rhythm, not quite pulling out of her, just undulating his hips against hers, then he’s leaning down to kiss her chastely, as if he isn’t buried so far in her there’s no space between their bodies. He hits that spot deep in her even with these slow not-thrusts and she moans softly into his mouth, tugging slightly on his hair. 

He makes that noise she’s been waiting to hear again, a guttural groan deep in his throat, and his hips start a more intense rhythm, actually pulling out of her slightly before oh so slowly pushing back in. 

She tries to meet him thrust for thrust, but one of his hands comes to grip her hip, stopping her movement and he breaks the kiss to say in a low, broken voice, 

“Clarke, I have you. Let me- let me do this for you. You can do whatever you want to me later.” 

He punctuates his request with a particularly strong thrust, and she squeaks, nodding wildly. She hadn’t known before that she needed this, needed someone, needed Bellamy to take care of her in this way, but now that he’s giving her the chance, she feels a sense of profound relief at the option to give up control yet know that she’s safe while doing so, for once in her life. 

She knows with a certainty that he needs this too, that deep seated need to protect manifesting in a way that requires him to be able to make sure she gets exactly what she needs from this first, precious time with him. 

“I love you,” she whispers, the tears that had been building falling onto his chest. A few of his own fall too, and she can’t help but laugh. “We’re a mess. Crying during sex, who would’ve thought?” 

He laughs softly before claiming her mouth again, starting up a new, more intense but still slow rhythm with his hips. Bellamy pulls out almost completely before pushing back in, grinds his hips against hers, his pubic bone hitting her clit just right, a moan tearing from her lips, before he’s repeating the motion. Her head falls onto his shoulder, her breaths coming in gasps as he picks up speed, his hands coming to grip her hips even harder, holding her in place as he starts ramming his hips into her. 

She sees stars as he reaches a place even further in her, and that coil suddenly makes itself known again, rapidly tightening with each thrust before suddenly releasing, her body becoming boneless as she jerks in his arms, her walls clenching around him erratically. Clarke hears a high-pitched sound that she doesn’t realize is escaping from her until she stops spasming and comes back to her body. 

Bellamy’s slowed his thrusts, waiting for her to be present enough to tell him what she wants, and once she’s capable of speech she gasps out, “more.” 

He smiles, then gently slips out of her, causing her to whine as her walls clench around nothing. He gently sets her down with her back against the pillows, stroking her cheek, then each breast, pressing a kiss there too before climbing back on top of her, his cock pushing easily back inside her. He makes that noise again once he’s fully pressed against her and her toes curl. 

She brings her legs up to wrap around his waist and pushes her heels against his ass to kickstart his motion. It works, and he starts moving again, capable of more forceful thrusts with this position. She feels the cot rocking backward and her eyes roll back in her head at the feel of his hips hitting her own with each movement. 

The sounds that start coming out of her are obscene, sounds she’s never heard herself make before, sometimes shaped around his name and sometimes just shouts of nothing as he hits that spot so deep in her. She lets out a particularly loud scream when he takes one of her legs from around his waist and bends her knee, using it to brace against his shoulder before thrusting in violently. The drag of his cock against her walls with this new angle makes her lose all sense, that scream bursting out of her before she can stop it. 

Bellamy laughs darkly before repeating the motion a few more times. The fire inside her had been building steadily since they switched positions, but now she’s getting closer and closer to that edge with his every movement and she thinks she can feel him getting closer too, his thrusts becoming less rhythmic and more erratic, his breathing labored. She’s so close to plummeting over it, needing something else to get her there, so she tries, gasping out, 

“Bell-Bellamy, please—” but her words are cut off by a bruising kiss, and his hand comes between them to rub insistent circles on her clit and yes that’s what she needed, her mouth falling open under his as she shatters, coming around his cock, feeling like she might black out. 

She feels his hips stutter, and then he’s pulsing into her, her walls clenching around him and a shout of his own tearing from his lips. He collapses on top of her but manages to adjust himself so he slips out of her and so he doesn’t completely crush her airways as they both breathe heavily, trying to grasp on to some sense of sanity after what just happened. His head is pillowed on her breast, and she can feel his breath ghosting across the other one, prickling the sensitive skin. 

She thinks she comes back to herself faster than he does, so she starts tracing patterns across his shoulders with one hand while he catches his breath, already trying to tie down the memories in her head before they escape her. The memory of their screams as they came comes to the forefront of her mind and, suddenly remembering her earlier conversation with Octavia, Clarke blushes crimson and starts giggling uncontrollably. 

Bellamy looks up at her, still slightly dazed and she can’t stop laughing but she tries to calm herself down enough to speak. 

“Octavia—" she giggles again, “told me she was gonna have to wear ear plugs tonight because of us sharing a tent. I told her to shut up, that nothing was going to happen but—" another giggle, “I hope she gave the same warning to Gabriel, or he just got quite the audio show.” 

At the horrified look that spreads across his face, his cheeks now turning crimson too, she laughs again before pulling him up to kiss him soundly. He returns it, licking lazily at her mouth. 

“Well, I guess we’ll find out in the morning, won’t we?” He grins at her, caressing her cheek. 

She smiles, “I guess we will.” 

The thought of the morning comes, and she feels a sense of foreboding. Suddenly needing to reassure herself, she takes his face in her hands and stares intently into his eyes. He returns the intensity, somehow knowing exactly what’s going through her head. 

“No matter what happens tomorrow, you’ll come back to me, right?” 

He puts both of his hands on either side of her face, then kisses her again, taking her breath away. 

“Always. I’ll always come back to you, Clarke. As long as you always come back to me.” 

She nods, moving one of her hands to hold his against her cheek. 

“We do this as a team. We do this together.” 

His words to her from all those years ago still cause something to break and then mend inside her. 

She reaches for another kiss, and she pulls back to say against his lips, “Together.” 

She knows what’s at risk, all the things that could go wrong with their carefully crafted plan, but the knowledge that they will always do anything to get back to each other shoves itself deep into her heart, her bones, her head. They will survive this, and they’ll do it together.

The next morning, Clarke walks into Gabriel’s main tent with Bellamy’s arm slung casually around her shoulders. They stop dead in their tracks, seeing Octavia and Gabriel standing off to one side, but also a group familiar people, holding weapons loosely. The Children of Gabriel. She tenses, but Gabriel holds up a hand and quickly explains their presence. Bellamy presses a kiss to her cheek before leaving her side to go speak quietly to Gabriel about how this changes their plans, and Octavia sidles up next to her. 

“Thank god for earplugs,” the other woman whispers, knocking her shoulder against Clarke’s. Clarke blushes furiously, and Bellamy glances at her before rolling his eyes at his sister, who sticks her tongue out at him. Clarke can’t help but smile at the almost normal interaction between the Blakes. “Poor Gabriel didn’t have any. Hopefully his pillow and the anomaly sounds were enough to block out all the moaning.” 

“I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” Clarke shrugs, her eyes not leaving Bellamy as he shakes the hand of the leader of the Children of Gabriel, thankfully not one of the groups who had taken them prisoner. 

Octavia laughs. “I’m not either. It took you two long enough to get to this point, I’m just happy you’re happy. I’m happy he’s happy.” Clarke glances at her, noticing that she’s also watching Bellamy, a soft smile on her lips. 

“We are. So happy. I hope he can use some of that to forgive you, soon, but just give him time.” 

Octavia nods absently, before turning to Clarke and saying simply, “I know.” She pats Clarke’s arm before moving to stand next to Gabriel around the table with the map of Sanctum rolled out, across from Bellamy and to the right of the newcomer leader. 

Clarke sighs, preparing for another hour of planning to adjust for their new additional goals, but Bellamy looks up at her and smiles broadly. She smiles back, striding quickly to stand at his side, taking his hand. She reaches up to kiss his temple, not caring who sees, and when he turns to press a kiss to her cheek, she knows. They’re going to survive this. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> They would have NEVER been able to talk about all they needed to talk about even if we hadn’t been robbed of the tent scene, but who gives a fuck, they deserve it. They deserved a whole episode of just hugging, talking, and fucking. Anyway. 
> 
> PS I don’t actually know if Clarke’s birthday is the same day as Eliza’s, I just thought it’d be cute
> 
> PPS we all know that this scene either would have been the slowest, sweetest lovemaking ever OR it would’ve been mad wild fucking, there’s no in between so uh, let me know if you want me to attempt to write that mad wild alternate version 👀
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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